Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
to His feet thy tribute bring.
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
evermore His praises sing:
Praise the everlasting King.
Praise Him for His grace and favor
to our fathers in distress.
Praise Him still the same as ever,
slow to chide, and swift to bless.
Glorious in His faithfulness.
Fatherlike He tends and spares us;
well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
rescues us from all our foes.
Widely yet His mercy flows.
Frail as summer’s flow’r we flourish,
blows the wind and it is gone;
but while mortals rise and perish,
God endures unchanging on.
Praise the high eternal One!
Angels, help us to adore Him;
ye behold Him face to face;
saints triumphant, bow down before Him,
gathered in from ev’ry race.
Praise with us the God of grace.
—Henry Francis Lyte, 1834
from Psalm 103
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